


Twelve Twenty Two on a Tuesday

by i_amtheoutlaw



Series: On a Tuesday [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack plans a surprise party for Stiles' birthday. Lydia is in charge and everyone is scared of her, so things are bound to run smoothly, right?</p><p>Only, when the time comes the pack can't seem to locate Stiles. </p><p>Why? Because Stiles was right. Nobody could guess where he got off to . . . expect maybe Danny, but can Danny manage to convince the pack that Stiles is snuggled up with This-No-Fit-Miguel?</p><p>Well, Scott is certainly not convinced and Isaac is too worried about the state of his own bullocks to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelve Twenty Two on a Tuesday

A few minutes after Stiles left, the Sheriff heard a knock on his front door and moved toward it.

“We have a problem,” Scott announced as soon as John had swung the door open. “Stiles just left.”

“I’m aware.” John smiled. He was happy that Stiles’ friends were so concerned about making his son’s birthday a special one. “I’m sure he’ll be back. We have hours before the party, Scott.”

“Right.” Scott furrowed his brow and nodded. “We just have to make sure Lydia doesn’t castrate me in the meantime. Keeping track of Stiles was my only job, you know.”

John snorted. “Well, look at it this way, if she does, I’ll know who to come for.”

Scott rolled his eyes, pushed past John, and strode into the house. “No offence, Sheriff, but Lydia could probably do it in front of you and still find a way to get away with it.”

John opened his mouth to protest then he realized that Scott was probably right. He shrugged the comment off and followed his son’s best friend into the house. They had a party to set up.

Neither Scott nor John dared touch the hidden decorations that Lydia had picked out a week prior. Instead, the two set about cleaning (rather weakly) and rearranged the house in manner more suited for guests. Or so they thought.

Once they were satisfied, they sat down on the couch to watch football highlights.

Of course, this was how Lydia found them much later . . . two hours and twenty-eight minutes after Stiles had already officially turned eighteen. 

The males were pulled from the television’s trance by a loud shriek. The alpha flailed to cover his sensitive ears as he was reminded that Lydia was a banshee who most definitely lived up to the term.

A banshee, he remembered, who had him under threat of death at this point in time. Scott’s face took on an expression of pure horror.

The Sheriff was reminded that this beautiful young lady Stiles had so long had a crush on cared about him enough to worry. He smiled warmly, totally lapsed the fact that the girl Stiles claimed to love was nearly a death omen herself.

The men both lost all expression as they watched Lydia swiftly approach them. Their faces were blank as well as their minds as she picked up the remote, clicked the TV off, and slammed the remote back down on the coffee table so hard that it seemed the whole living room shook.

When the banshee opened her mouth again, she did not scream. Instead, her words were calm and calculated. The tone defied her very being as well as the crispness of air that surrounded her arrival and promised chaos.

“Do you know how many—how very many—things are wrong with this picture?” she asked but didn’t give them a chance to answer. “I don’t even know where to _start_.”

“Er,” said Scott. John didn’t dare say a word and inwardly cringed as Scott let the syllable fall from his lips. The Sheriff had more experience with angry women, it seemed.

Cold, green eyes bore into Scott immediately. Lydia opened her mouth and both men cowered under the foreboding feeling of the harsh words that were soon to come.

Lydia snapped her mouth shut and stalked away startling them both. She stopped at the edge of the TV and ran one perfectly manicured finger across the top of it. The boys gulped as the finger pulled away with a nasty grey lining of dust on it.

Lydia hummed thoughtfully as she pondered the dust. “This is disgusting,” she concluded in a flat tone that reminded Scott of a teacher explaining to him why he’d failed a test that they both knew he hadn’t studied for. “But . . . not nearly as concerning as some other things around here.”

Lydia stalked around the Stilinski residence, picking out everything she deemed wrong, and they followed after her and accepted the strangely calm verbal abuse without protest. She was clearly growing more agitated by the second. After she saw the state of John’s refrigerator she seemed to snap.

“But really,” she said through gritted teeth as she slammed the freezer door closed and rounded on them. “You know what the worst is?”

Scott finally wised up and didn’t make a peep. Even as those hardened green eyes fell heavily toward him. Though, this time his silence did little to shield him from Lydia’s wrath.

“You aren’t even supposed to be here, you mutt!” she shouted. “So, tell me, where in the _hell_ is Stiles?!”

“Lottery tickets!” John shouted at the same time Scott yelled,

“A gay strip club!”

John sent Scott a confused look while Scott cringed and avoided all eye contact. Lydia rolled her eyes and huffed, “why do I have to do everything myself?”

After a quick call to Danny, it was confirmed that he and Stiles were most definitely not at a strip club. In fact, Danny said he hadn’t seen Stiles all day. When Isaac arrived, he and Scott were both sent out and sniffed around a few gas stations, but neither of the wolves caught Stiles’ scent. So, he had definitely not been to buy lottery tickets either.

Two hours of searching later and it seemed the pack were no closer to locating their prized human. After Isaac, a clueless Kira arrived. Then at Chris Argent’s arrival the planning crew was nearly complete and they still hadn’t a clue where Stiles could have gotten to, but they continued to set up until Lydia was satisfied. Finally, with Danny’s late arrival, the group lost all hope of finding Stiles. They’d all been silently hoping that Danny was covering for Stiles who’d yet to (re)come out to his father. But it seemed that Danny really didn’t have a clue.

“This is a disaster!” Lydia shouted. She’d been livid for the past hour. Even Chris had started to cower away from her fury. “I mean, I know it's _Stiles_ , but still! How could we honestly manage to lose him?! We are his only friends!”

“Er,” Danny spoke up, he sounded a bit awkward. “What about, y’know, that Miguel guy?”

“Who?” Lydia, along with nearly everyone else, asked.

Danny looked even more awkward and shot the Sheriff a nervous glance before he continued. “Uh . . . that Miguel guy who’s always hanging around Stiles. You guys have to know him! He’s always with Stiles. Randomly shirtless and bleeding in Stiles’ bedroom. Watching him practice. In the Jeep’s passenger. Come on, the um, _older_ guy with dark hair . . . really, really muscular. Um, did I mention _older_?”

Danny looked as if he was desperately trying to convey a certain point, but nobody had gotten it yet. Not even Lydia. They were still too caught up in this mysterious ‘Miguel.’ Though, it only took Lydia a few seconds to put two and two together.

“Oh, are you talking about Derek? Derek Hale?”

“Er, wait," Danny started, "so Derek is a werewolf, right? I’ve heard you guys talk about him but I’ve never—”

Danny was cut off as Lydia shoved her phone in his face. A picture of Miguel was on the screen and Danny smiled. “Yep. That’s the one.”

Lydia frowned, but before she could ask, Scott did.

“Why would you think Stiles would be with Derek, Danny?”

“Um, well, y’know.” Danny cleared his throat. “It’s just that he’s, well. He’s eighteen now . . . and I got the distinct impression that those two—er—both kinda, um, wantedtogettogether? And, er, Derek or whatever isn’t here either? So . . .”

Danny trailed off and imaginary light bulbs went off all over the room.

Scott still didn’t understand and he was about to say as much before Lydia’s shouts filled the air.

“Isaaaaaaaaaaaaac!” She shouted as she rounded on the wolf in question. “Weren’t you supposed to inform Derek a week ago? So, I ask, where in the hell is Derek?!”

“Um,” Isaac said. “Shit.”

“Thank God!” Scott cheered. “I thought for a second Danny was trying to say Stiles was having sex with Derek, but see! Isaac just forgot to invite him!”

Danny was not convinced, he tried to say as much, but all else was lost once Lydia started in on Isaac.

\--

Isaac was running for his life. Honestly, the look in Lydia’s eyes when she’d said, “don’t fuck this up,” was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

He sprinted up the stairs, pulled out his key, slid through the door, and slammed it behind him as he took off again.

He was sure Derek was still asleep because he knew the wolf liked to stay up half the night creeping in the shadows and reading old creepy books and other creepy things that all Hale’s felt the need to do. Then sleep in until he was roused either by food or chaos. Isaac could also hear Derek wrestling around, which normally meant he was having a nightmare.

Isaac ran faster. The strangely new yet familiar scent of someone Isaac knew in Derek’s space was lost to the frantic werewolf. Buried under his distress to be as fast as he possibly could.

After what seemed like miles of running, Isaac finally reached the door to Derek’s bedroom.

“Derek!” Isaac yelled before bursting through the door, “wake up!”

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned for the next bit of this series. I'll hopefully update in a couple of weeks!


End file.
